


Tell Me Who

by orpheous87



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angry Harry Potter, Enemies to Lovers, M/M, Masquerade Ball, New Year's Kiss, Quidditch Player Draco Malfoy, Quidditch Player Harry Potter, Smug Draco Malfoy, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-20
Updated: 2019-12-20
Packaged: 2021-01-23 04:07:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,254
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21313918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orpheous87/pseuds/orpheous87
Summary: Harry Potter has enjoyed much success since becoming Seeker of Puddlemere United, but when Draco Malfoy becomes Seeker of Montrose Magpies, it's not just the Quidditch League that he shakes up. And just who is the mystery man that catches Harry's eye at the Annual Masquerade Ball?
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Implied Oliver Wood/Percy Weasley, implied Cho Chang/Ginny Weasley
Comments: 4
Kudos: 125
Collections: Harry/Draco Owlpost 2019





	Tell Me Who

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sirene312](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sirene312/gifts).

**_Malfoy’s Magpies Soar to Victory!_**

__

__

_Capturing the Snitch in only five minutes and twenty seconds, Draco Malfoy continues to force the memory of his days as a Death Eater from people’s minds as the Montrose Magpies beat the Falmouth Falcons to climb to the top of the table where they sit alongside Harry Potter’s Puddlemere United as joint leaders. This makes next week’s match between the two teams a grudge match of the highest intensity - Quidditch fans, you will _not_ want to miss this one!_

Making a noise of disgust in his throat, Harry Potter threw the copy of the Daily Prophet back onto the table. Since leaving Hogwarts, Harry had surprised the world by turning down Kingsley Shacklebolt’s offer of being an Auror and had thrown himself into the sport he’d enjoyed so much during his younger years. Contacting Oliver Wood, he’d secured himself a tryout and had quickly risen through the team’s training programme until he’d broken into the first team four years ago.

Now, at the age of twenty-five, he was the youngest captain in the team’s history and had led the team to three successive league titles. They had been on course for a fourth until the Magpies had had a sudden surge and risen up the league at a frightening pace thanks to one Draco Malfoy. 

If Harry hadn’t known better, he would have thought that Malfoy had bought his way onto the team. But that was the Malfoy of the past, and in recent weeks _this_ Malfoy had proved himself as more than capable of winning games. Which was, in turn, the most frustrating part about it. Harry had thought he’d escaped his schoolboy rivalry with Malfoy, but now he was right back in the thick of it, only this time, it was being played out in front of the nation’s press.

The next week’s match would mark the third time they’d played each other in the league, and if their previous games were anything to go by, Harry would be in for a tough match. Malfoy didn’t show off so much these days, preferring to let his flying do the talking, and he had run Harry close each time they’d played. Harry knew it was only a matter of time before Malfoy beat him, though he hoped it wouldn’t be this season. 

Deciding not to dwell on the rest of the article—which had talked of nothing but Harry and Draco’s history—Harry stepped into the fireplace, heading for Ron and Hermione’s place.

***

Storming into the changing room, Harry threw his wristguards at the wall by his bag, swiftly following them with his goggles. Malfoy caught the Snitch by a fingernail’s length, having flown alongside Harry for fifty feet first. Harry hadn’t been able to bring himself to congratulate the Magpies on their win and had left the pitch—for the first time ever—while the post-match handshakes were taking place. He couldn’t even bring himself to care that it would have been captured by any amount of photographers.

When the rest of the team trudged into the changing room, Harry ignored their attempts to placate him. He knew he was being childish—he’d never reacted like this before—but he couldn’t seem to shake the feeling of crushing disappointment that had overtaken him. 

Harry moved to look in the mirror, prodding gently at a bruise that was blooming on his left cheek where Malfoy had caught him with an elbow. He gave a soft hiss of pain as he prodded slightly too hard. He hoped he still had some of the bruise removing paste that George had given him. Sighing, he turned away from the mirror again and headed for the showers. He wondered, idly, if this was how Wood had felt when Harry had fallen off his broom in third year and Hufflepuff had won the match. 

Half an hour later, he was showered and dressed again, his bag packed with his dirty uniform, and he was on his way out of the changing room. 

“Who would have thought that the Saviour of the Wizarding World was _such_ a _bad_ loser?” 

Harry whirled round as the familiar drawling voice came from somewhere to his left, a scowl on his face. Draco Malfoy was lounging against the wall, the Snitch still held gently in his hand, it’s wings beating a soft rhythm against the leather of his glove.

“What do you want?” Harry snarled, his free hand clenching automatically. 

“Nice face, Potter,” Draco replied, eyeing the bruise which was now a spectacular shade of purple. “You really ought to put something on that bruise.” 

“Fuck off,” Harry growled, his eyes never leaving Malfoy’s face. 

“All in good time,” Draco said in a voice that was almost sing-song. He was enjoying his moment. “I just want to take in this sight for a little while longer.” 

“What are you talking about?” Harry ground out, not really wanting to engage Malfoy in conversation. 

“The sight of you…” Draco paused, eyeing Harry again. “On the losing side for once. Not used to it, are you? That’s what makes this so special,” he added, holding up the Snitch. 

“Didn’t you hear me when I told you to fuck off?” Harry grunted, shouldering his bag again and pushing past Draco. All he wanted was to get to the Apparition point at the entrance to the stadium. He put his head down as he left the building, ignoring the shouts of the reporters who were hanging around, like vultures, waiting for him to show his face. 

Draco turned as Harry barged past him, laughing as he watched him walk away. He looked down at the Snitch, still held in his fist, and smiled. The fact he’d snatched it from Potter’s grasp made the victory all the sweeter.

***

By the time the end of the season came around, the Magpies and Puddlemere United were, once again, tied at the top of the table. Harry had ensured that in his next match, after being defeated by the Magpies, he caught the Snitch within a minute of it being released. He and Malfoy had traded insults almost weekly in their post-match interviews, and the reaction to their teams tying had been wild.

Harry was slumped in his armchair, half-asleep when he heard the tapping at his window. Groaning, he rubbed at the back of his head with one hand as he got up and went to the window. Outside, an angry looking screech owl sat on the windowsill, a very formal looking envelope tied to its leg. Harry’s heart sank. He’d had one of these envelopes every year since he broke into the first team. The Annual Quidditch League Charity Masquerade Ball was on the way. 

Sighing, Harry opened the window and let the owl in. Clicking its beak impatiently, the owl held out its leg so that Harry could untie the letter. “Alright, alright,” he muttered, fumbling with the fastening. “I suppose you’ll want a treat too, do you?” 

The owl clicked its beak once more before ruffling its feathers. Harry put the letter on the occasional table that was next to the window and opened the tin of owl treats he kept there for this purpose. He extracted a couple of treats and held them out to the owl which snapped them up greedily. Then it spread its wings and took off, soaring out of the window and away into the night, swallowed almost instantly by the inky blackness of the London skies. 

Harry closed the window and picked up the envelope. Turning it over in his hands, he took in the elegant script that his name and address were written in, the seal of golden wax that held the envelope closed, and the sleek black ribbon that had held the letter onto the owl’s leg. He pulled the ribbon away and dropped it on the table before sliding his fingers under the flap of the envelope, breaking the seal.

_Mr Harry Potter of Puddlemere United,  
The Quidditch League of Great Britain and Northern Ireland hereby cordially invite you to attend their Annual Masquerade Ball in aid of St. Mungo’s Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries._

_This invitation is for you and one guest of your choice._  
Please note the dress code: absolutely no part of your face is permitted to be seen at the ball. Masks must be worn at all times.  
All other clothing must be formal. 

_The ball will take place on New Year’s Eve at The Luminous Opera House in London.  
Arrival should be no later than 9pm._

Harry huffed to himself as he read the invite. He knew that although he’d been ‘invited’, his presence was almost certainly expected. The invites were simply a formality. When he thought about it, he supposed he would need to get a new mask this year, considering that he’d used the same one for the last five years. For all he wasn’t the biggest fan of these balls, his favourite part of them was the fact he had to _wear_ a mask. His mask had never been over the top or ostentatious and he’d enjoyed being a man of mystery—it had often led to many enjoyable encounters.

He wouldn’t be taking anyone else along, he knew that much. In the past, he’d never been able to choose which of his friends to take, since the invitation only allowed him one guest, and on the odd occasion he’d asked Ginny to accompany him, she hadn’t been able to. So he’d given up and had always attended alone and this year would be no different. 

Sighing, Harry tossed the invite onto the table and slumped back into his armchair. Summoning a bottle of Butterbeer and a glass, he poured himself a measure and drank slowly, mulling over the invitation. After another measure of Butterbeer, he got to his feet and headed up to bed, ideas for masks swimming around in his head.

***

New Year’s Eve arrived, and Harry checked his appearance in the mirror on his bedroom wall. He hadn’t yet put his mask on, it always irritated him that his glasses got in the way, and he just couldn’t get away with contact lenses, though thankfully there had been advances in the charms he could use to temporarily improve his vision. He was wearing dress robes similar to the ones he’d worn for the Yule Ball as he’d always liked them. The bottle green colour really _did_ accentuate his eyes, loath as he was to admit it.

The mask he’d chosen was a Venetian Bauta mask in emerald green with an intricate gold pattern, including sections that depicted music stanzas from Harry’s favourite song. Slipping it over his head, Harry examined the full effect in the mirror. He smiled, pleased with his choices. Checking his watch, he realised with a start that he’d better leave. It was a quarter to nine, so he still had plenty of time to Apparate. Concentrating hard on his destination, he turned on the spot and Disapparated with a soft pop. 

Arriving at The Luminous Opera House, Harry adjusted his robes and made sure his mask was still in place before approaching the entrance. He showed the security wizard standing at the door his invitation and headed into the ballroom. 

As soon as he walked through the door, a young witch appeared at his side, a silver tray containing glasses of sparkling liquid balanced upon her hand. Inclining his head slightly, he accepted a glass, knowing it would be something non-alcoholic (the drinks at these balls always were), and moved further into the room. The main dancefloor was down a short flight of ornate steps with moulded bannisters. The ceiling of the room was incredibly high and was covered in more ornate mouldings. Harry could see hundreds of twinkling lights suspended from the ceiling, though he suspected they were magical in nature. Lining the sides of the room were alcoves, separated from the main room by floaty, sheer muslin drapes to give some privacy. Looking closely, Harry could see that each alcove was filled with plush cushions and beanbags, and he thought they looked incredibly cosy. 

Making his way down the stairs, Harry’s gaze caught on a figure that was opposite. The figure was male, he decided, due to the style of dress robes. The mask, also, held a clue as it was very like Harry’s own mask except for the colour and long, extremely phallic looking nose. His interest piqued, Harry made his way towards the man, occasionally being waylaid by another wizard grabbing him to dance. These encounters didn’t last long, with Harry moving on swiftly, his gaze never leaving the unknown man.

***

Draco spotted Harry as soon as he’d entered the ballroom, though of course, he didn’t _know_ it was Harry. The dress robes that this mystery man was wearing were exquisitely designed. The cut of the material fell _just so_, clinging to the wearer in all the right places. The mask, clearly chosen to compliment the dress robes, was just as intriguing to Draco as the identity of the man underneath it. He knew that, logistically, it was someone he knew, given that all of the teams in the league played against each other frequently, but it was always a challenge to identify people.

Tearing his gaze from the mystery man, Draco looked around at the crowds of people dancing and drinking. He could see Oliver Wood in a corner of the dancefloor (he would recognise those arms anywhere), wrapped around someone who looked suspiciously like a Weasley and _nothing_ like a Quidditch player, then there was Cho Chang, dancing with Ginny Weasley (that red hair is always a dead giveaway)— that had been a turn up for the books, he thought, as he continued on his path through the dancefloor. His hips swaying gently in time to the music as he sipped his drink. 

He passed a few of his teammates, he recognised _them_ of course, and plenty of people he couldn’t guess at. His focus was on the mystery man who, if he wasn’t mistaken, was making his way towards him right now. Draco was glad that he’d chosen the Naso style of mask this year. He’d always shied away from it in the past, due to it pushing the very boundaries of the rule that no part of the face must be seen. He’d gone for an elegant black and silver design, which contrasted with his white dress robes. His robes were, of course, charmed with a repellant in case anyone were to spill anything in his vicinity. 

Within seconds, Draco’s path had come to a halt, stopped by the mystery man. Circling one another, they began to move together in unison. There was no contact between them, but the distance between them was minute as they danced slowly.

***

Harry inhaled deeply as he moved in time with the mystery man, breathing in the intoxicating scent of apples and caramel that he could have sworn he’d smelled before. There was something else there that he couldn’t quite put his finger on, but he couldn’t bring himself to care at the minute. Being so close to this man was having quite an effect on Harry’s senses. His eyes were still fixed on the man’s mask, taking in every detail of the design. The intricate pattern was almost mesmerising, he thought as they swayed together while still not touching.

Harry couldn’t help himself and reached out a hand that slid smoothly around the mystery man’s waist, drawing them even closer together. He inhaled sharply as their hips moulded together seamlessly. He ran his hand up the man’s back, feeling every muscle moving under his touch as _something_ crackled between them. His pulse quickened. 

He couldn’t hear anything but the hypnotic music which was keeping his focus solely on the man in front of him. If he’d been able to tear his gaze away, he would have realised that there was a slowly widening circle of space around the two of them, their magic still crackling like lightning between them. He ached to _taste_ the man, but he couldn’t see how when he wasn’t supposed to show his face.

***

Draco smiled to himself as he and the mysterious stranger began to move together. As he breathed in, he could smell the spicy scents of nutmeg and cardamom along with the citrus of bergamot. If he wasn’t mistaken, he could also smell something woody. The man was a good mover, he would give him that. He didn’t think he’d ever been so in sync with a stranger before.

As the mystery man’s hand slid up his back, Draco felt his magic react with instant ferocity, crackling into life and surrounding them both. But it wasn’t just his own magic that he could feel. The mystery man’s magic was also swirling around them, weaving with Draco’s, creating a shield around them.

The music was pounding in Draco’s ears, every sense was heightening, and he felt hyper aware of every touch of the other man’s hand on his back. He could feel his muscles rippling every time the man’s fingers moved.

Unable to help himself any longer, Draco reached out and slid his own arm around the mystery man’s waist, pulling him even closer. His other hand travelled up the man’s arm until it cupped the back of his neck. As soon as his fingertips touched the soft skin there, Draco felt another sharp tingle of their magic interweaving. He applied gentle pressure to the back of the man’s neck, until their foreheads pressed together and their breath intermingled.

Continuing to move against one another, Draco slid his hand back down the mystery man’s arm and took his hand. He suddenly felt claustrophobic on the dancefloor and all he could focus on was the alcoves that lined the room. He knew they still couldn’t remove their masks, but they would be able to lift them just slightly once they were away from view.

***

Harry felt his breath coming in short gasps as the mysterious man took his hand. He was glad that the mystery man had made a move because he was in danger of losing all inhibitions right here on the dancefloor. He didn’t know where his glass had gone. He didn’t remember putting it down anywhere, but he supposed that shouldn’t really be his priority at the moment.

He allowed the mystery man to lead him through the throngs of people still moving on the dancefloor. He let his eyes roam over the strong frame of the man, admiring the cut of the immaculate white dress robes. There was something familiar about the man, but Harry was damned if he could say what it was. 

Before he could dwell on it too much, the mystery man had pushed the drapes aside and led him into the first alcove they came to. Within seconds of being inside, Harry found himself in the arms of the mysterious stranger. His mask was nudged aside and he felt the nose of the stranger’s mask poking into his shoulder as his lips were captured in a heated kiss. 

Harry brought one hand up to the back of the stranger’s head, attempting to bring them even closer as he deepened the kiss. Desire pooled in his stomach as they sank onto the cushions without parting. He realised with a thrill that tasting the stranger was as good as he’d hoped it would be. As well as the sparkling gillywater he knew they’d both consumed, he could also taste a hint of peppermint and coffee that made him moan.

***

Draco found himself completely lost in the kiss as they slowly lowered themselves into a lying position. He wanted to memorise everything about this man in case he never saw him again once the masks were off. He let one of his hands press against the stranger’s chest, feeling only the toned muscles as he brought his hand lower until it was resting on the stranger’s waistband.

He pushed one leg between the stranger’s legs, shifting so that he was pressing ever closer. Although he was getting lost in the atmosphere created by the alcove and the drapes, along with twinkling fairy lights, Draco was still conscious of the fact that anyone could walk in on them. 

Breaking the kiss, Draco trailed smaller, feather-light, kisses along the stranger’s jaw and to his throat where he found the pulse point. He sucked and licked gently at the man’s neck, paying particular attention to the pulse point and enjoying the small moans he elicited from the mystery man. 

Draco was careful not to leave any marks on the stranger’s neck, lest he be thought crude. But he mapped every little spot that made the man moan out loud, committing them to memory in the vain hope that he found out who his mystery partner was. He knew that he would most certainly take the chance to repeat this moment if he was given it.

***

Harry moaned again, tipping his head back slightly against the cushion. He suddenly felt more vulnerable than he had done in a long time, but he didn’t want this man to stop touching him in that way. Arching his back into the touch, Harry gasped.

Bringing one hand up to rest on the mystery man’s jaw, Harry let his fingers trace the edge of the man’s mask. He was itching to remove the mask and find out who it was that he was kissing, but for once, he couldn’t bring himself to break the rules. There was something special about kissing this unknown man. 

Harry lifted the man’s face once more so that he could kiss him again, more leisurely this time. He wished he could stop time. He had no idea what time it was, or how long he’d been sequestered in the alcove with his mystery man, but he wished it could continue.

***

Not five minutes later, a _Sonorous_-amplified voice was heard throughout the ballroom.

_”Ladies and gentlemen, it’s the moment you’ve all been waiting for… the countdown to midnight is about to begin! And, as always, after midnight you may remove your masks and reveal yourselves!”_

There followed a raucous cheer from the crowd still on the dancefloor, then silence. Harry stilled, his hand pressed against the mystery man’s chest. He didn’t normally stay until midnight, so he hadn’t realised that they would reveal themselves and his heart was pounding at the thought. 

Outside the alcove, the countdown began and Harry could hear the crowds getting more and more excited as they neared the end of the year. 

_”...three...two...one! Happy New Year!”_

Harry tilted his head once more and kissed the stranger deeply, celebrating the turn of the year for possibly the first time in his life. He felt a thrill of excitement as the mystery man kissed back with just as much enthusiasm. Harry cupped the stranger’s cheek gently as the kiss turned tender. 

Parting a moment later, the two men gazed at each other. Then, in unison, lifted their hands to remove their masks. 

For a moment, they continued to stare at each other without saying a word, before Harry started to laugh.

Draco narrowed his eyes. “What are you laughing at, Potter?” he asked, irritation creeping into his voice. 

“Nothing,” Harry replied, a smile still playing across his face. “Just… of course it’s you. Why wouldn’t it be you?” 

Draco realised, in that moment, the absurdity of the situation and also began to chuckle. “I could say the same,” he said. 

Harry gave him an embarrassed grin. “That’s, er, an interesting mask you have,” he said. 

Draco held his mask up and looked at it, nodding. “It’s a traditional Venetian mask,” he explained. “Meant to convey my not so noble intentions, apparently.” 

Harry snorted softly. “There was nothing noble about the way you were kissing me,” he said, eyes glinting mischievously. 

Draco smirked. “The same could be said for you, Potter,” he said softly. “I knew there was something familiar about you.” 

Harry nodded. “I thought the same,” he said. “I just couldn’t put my finger on it.” 

Draco regarded Harry carefully. “Last time we spoke, you were all for punching me,” he said. “...Is that still the case?” 

Harry paused before shaking his head. “Definitely not,” he said softly. “In fact… I kind of want to kiss you again.” 

“Good,” Draco replied, closing the gap between them once more and kissing Harry hard.

Harry moaned into the kiss, his mask falling from his hand as he brought it up to tangle in Draco’s hair, his other hand pulling Draco close at the waist. 

Draco cupped Harry’s cheeks briefly before sliding one hand into Harry’s hair, running his fingers through the mess of dark curls. 

They continued to kiss for what seemed like hours to Harry before finally parting, their lips kiss-swollen and their breathing slightly laboured. “What do you say that we carry this on elsewhere?” he asked softly, throwing all caution to the wind. 

“And where would ‘elsewhere’ be?” Draco asked, still breathless from Harry’s kiss.

“Well, I was thinking my place,” Harry murmured. “Unless you have a better idea?” 

“No, that sounds suitable,” Draco replied, smiling against Harry’s lips. “Let’s go.” 

Harry grinned and he wrapped his arms around Draco, holding him tightly as he Apparated them away to Grimmauld Place. 

Their masks lay, forgotten, on the cushions.


End file.
